


Only Natural

by banksial, niighthoneyhue



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, College, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Burn-ish, Smut, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Thomas Jefferson Being an Idiot, imagine being this stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banksial/pseuds/banksial, https://archiveofourown.org/users/niighthoneyhue/pseuds/niighthoneyhue
Summary: Aaron Burr has just given up on graduating in two.Thomas Jefferson is too eager to fall in love.
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. Memoirs of a Maniac

**Author's Note:**

> hehe gays go brrr

Here’s a fun fact about trying to graduate in half the time: there is a ninety-nine percent chance you conk out in the first half, and you will have to change to normal classes, which ultimately lands you in the very classes with a man you were hoping you would be able to escape for the rest of your university career.

“So, he walks towards me all showy like--” Alexander has this way of talking. Aaron would call it a dance, if it weren’t so uncoordinated and explosive. On the introductory tour for Princeton University Alexander had accidentally (on-purpose, a part of him suspects) thrown his elbow into Aaron’s face while talking about the foster care system. “--And this guy has a foot on me, don’t roll your eyes, and I smile at him and ask him what he has because I think he might be new and he gives me a _look_ and keeps walking.”

“Oh. Yeah? Cool.” Aaron gives one word responses at all the right cues. Knowing Hamilton, he will hardly notice.

Second fun fact about conking out of that half-time graduation idea: if the course speed doesn’t drive you crazy, you can bet that that weird kid you met at orientation will. 

“Anyway,” Alexander huffs, out of breath from complaining. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Third: you miss out on a lot of parties. And you don’t really ever notice until a certain aggravating immigrant invites you to one while you’re not juggling classes, a waiting job, an on-again off-again girlfriend and the question of which convenience store snack you’re going to have for dinner that night. 

Alexander comes to his house. Aaron is actually able to afford living in the student village. It’s not as good as the family housing but Aaron is lucky— he doesn’t have a studio room like Hamilton, who is watching him shave. He laughs when Aaron’s unsteady hand makes him nick his jaw. 

“Some people might say that that is cruel,” Aaron mutters. He washes the razor, taps it against the sink and starts on the other side of his face, despite the blood welling and eventually spilling down his chin. 

Fact three-point-five: you learn that business-casual is apparently not suitable for parties, despite the fact you look great in your navy blazer. At this point, with Alexander choosing his only bright sweater and his most casual pants, he is thinking he should write a book about his college suffrage, until he remembers that nobody will buy it; nobody has a self-declared best friend as annoying as Hamilton.

“You know that guy I mentioned earlier today? He’s _coming_.” Alexander makes a face of disgust and pretends to gag, throwing down a pinstripe tie. He isn’t quite sure which subject is the cause of his repulsion. 

He’s mentioned a few. Burr doesn’t care to listen, doesn't want to know, but for the sake of his friendship he inquires. “Which guy?”

“The tall one.”

Apparently Aaron’s deadpan look is enough for him to specify. Alexander mimics him and then throws him a belt. The clasp nips him in the shoulder. “The one that gave me the _look_.”

Because somehow, Aaron was supposed to know what the _look_ meant. He decides that enough people in this world have been pestered relentlessly by Alexander that his book on university life would sell out in no time at all.

Aaron catches a ride with Alexander so that Alexander would have somebody to drive him home when he becomes inevitably drunk. He even gives him the keys: small, beaten up pieces of metal with a cheap rubber Garfield key ring that has lost its colour. It’s supposed to be a smallish party, Aaron thinks, twisting the ring on his finger. Just a studio apartment thing. Whoever is hosting it must be insane. Somebody will call the cops, and they’ll get into trouble. Burr, who is in the passenger seat, pushes his forehead against the cool glass and allows the vibrations of Alexander’s terrible driving to shake through his core.

-

Thomas Jefferson wasn't one to show up to college parties. Okay, maybe a lie, but all in good faith-- he would show up, have a few shots, and pretend to be drunk enough for people to tell him to go home. It worked only seventy-five percent of the time, depending on how early in the party he was pulling his tricks. Then again, if it was way too early where most people were sober then he was in for a difficult ride. 

His train of thought is cut off from lazily scrolling through Twitter when James messaged him. James Madison: if he wasn't straight Thomas would've married the guy ten years ago. They had a special bond that just couldn't compare to anyone else's relationship. And, yes, Thomas means that as insufferably as possible.

[Arriving in 15. If you're not ready I'll personally kick your ass.] 

Thomas groans. He knew damn well that James was not capable of doing that, but he would get an earful worse than the time his mother saw he colored on the wall when he was six. James had a special type of charm, one that was rather irreplaceable. The Virginian ran a hand through his curls, trying to see if he could pull some excuse. He had lost his best shoes, his closet was on fire, he waxed an eyebrow off, whatever would convince James to please _not_ chew his head off like an angry dog would with a toy he didn't like, thank you very much. 

Of course, this never worked out in Thomas's favor. Thomas forces himself to get out of his warm bed and into some stupid clothes he picked earlier in the day. It was a nice outfit, but not his best. No, nothing could compare with his sweatpants and his lazy hand-me-down from his father when he couldn't fit in his college shirt anymore. Thomas slips his pants, shirt, and socks on when he hears a familiar beep of a car outside his window. He stumbles to his window, shoving it open so he could look down at where James was parked in the usual spot. 

"Oh, if it isn't my prince and his carriage to whisk me away to the ball. How _noble_ \--"

"Jefferson, if you don't get your ass in my car, I'll cut your hair when you're asleep." 

Thomas huffs. "Point taken. I'll be out in five." 

He shut the window and went back to getting ready, sliding his leather jacket on and bouncing around his room to slip his ratty shoes on. The whole suffering college student thing never did sit right with him; he has his own apartment, he has a car, pretty sure he didn't have debt, and he has his best friend with him at his side. He could be honest: privileged was an understatement. Yet as much as it all seems like flowers and rainbows, if his father or mother ever found out he was anything _but_ straight he would be disowned and kicked off onto the streets of New York. It never was enough to stop him from exploring, hooking up with random assholes on tinder, or even going to parties in hopes that his "dream girl" was drinking her night away on some couch stained with Kool-Aid and much worse.

Thomas lets out a breathy laugh, admiring how funny he was. He opens his door and locks it before jogging to James's car. The house-apartment-whatever the fuck- place was not far. Actually it was pretty close. In the car, James’s sorry excuse for music plays and Thomas stares at the roads rolling by. The sky was becoming dark, pink fading to purple and then to a navy blue that was littered with sparkling stars. It’s a nice view until they’re close enough to the party. 

The street was blockaded by a dozen other cars that were trying to park or waiting to snatch a spot along the cramped street. Houses squash together, elbowing for room. Nearby, there is an apartment building where some college students were making their way to, wearing the Princeton logo shamelessly. He could feel the fervent dislike over the beer, the people, the atmosphere. Even with his incessant complaints James pushes him along to go inside. With Thomas as his shield he creates a path to the closest sofa available that doesn’t have a couple making out on it. 

"Drinks?" James asked over the roaring speaker. Which fucker thought it would be smart to have it so loud?

"Just a soda, I'm not gettin' drunk tonight!" 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Thomas flipped James off as he was shoved aside, watching his friend get lost in the crowd of many. He felt so small, despite being someone so large in stature, and maybe a little claustrophobic in this dense air. Thomas let his eyes wander around the room, hoping-- no, _praying_ to God that there was no one around he knew. Lord Almighty must have said "fuck you, Thomas Peter Randolph Jefferson." Surely, this was a cruel joke. Some funny little stab at his want to be undisturbed by idiots that didn’t know better. But, no, his eyes were not playing tricks: right there, talking to somebody else, was that rat boy he had seen earlier.

“Oh god,” Alexander says. Aaron doesn’t bother following that up to see what he’s exclaiming at. This is one of his first university parties, and he loved everything about it. The beer, the amount of people, the atmosphere. And can he smell weed? “Aaron, Aaron, that’s him.”

“What?” Aaron rips his gaze away from a chick with a tiny skirt irritably but Alexander has already gone to talk to a man, who is suspiciously tall. Because Aaron has become eighty percent of Alexander’s self control in the last month he feels obligated to follow. 

“Hey man.” Alexander greets. He’s doing it nicely enough. He sits next to him, between Curly and the couple. Alexander shakes his hand. Aaron stands awkwardly. “Recognise me?”

"Unfortunately." 

Thomas let his eyes fleet over the intruder of his space for a second. Okay, tired looking baby faced kid. Not horrible, but holy shit he dressed himself like a seven year old. What a turn off. He glanced instead at the guy that was with him and paused. His eyes slowly worked their way up from his legs to his arms, and then finally settled on the guy's face. _He_ looked like a normal college student. The stranger was good looking, not too chiseled but not someone you'd completely skip over looking when scanning a room. 

He let himself stop being so fixated for a second and looked back at Tired Baby Face, raising an eyebrow while leaning back into the couch. The feeling of slightly damp cloth against his jacket made Thomas want to gag. He stiffened and immediately looked at the couch in disgust as he scooted to the edge. He wants James to come back and rescue him. Hell, a fucking meteor crashing into the apartment would also be a great way to escape this conversation.

Baby Face’s smile falls like a drape, and then hardens. He drops his hand and wipes it on his pants carelessly. “I could say the same. You were all the wrong shades of purple.”

“Come on Alexander.” The stranger motions to him. He glances at Thomas, who is sure his body language is putting up all kinds of stop signs reading “ _go away go away_ ” in bold letters. 

“I'm not takin' criticism on clothes from an asshole who barely dresses himself correctly.”

“No, hang on. What makes you hate me so much? You’re James’s friend, right? James is a friend of mine, even if it is so hard to believe. You hardly even looked at me and you gave me that _attitude_.” 

He let out an amused huff, practically sneering at _Alexander_ , wondering what the hot guy besides him even saw in him. The conversation was electronic enough for Thomas to begin to find it cathartic, arguing back and forth, yelling over the speakers. The little fucker had some spark in him. Thomas was ready to basically spend the night calling the guy out for being an ass, but was interrupted from his entertainment as they left.

The stranger looks over his shoulder and says “ _Alex_!” through his teeth in a deep voice. “Oh, Hercules is here. Come on, Hamilton. Sorry for him.” 

The friend of Alexander practically dragged the kid away. It was a bit of a pity, really, how a hot guy like him was wasted hanging around with, Hamilton? Was that his name? 

Alexander Hamilton. Little shit. 

Thomas watched them leave and glared at Alexander until they left his sight, a sigh making his body slouch.

A mistake on his part, and an observation: the stranger had nice eyes, and Baby Face had only embarrassed Thomas in front of him by being a jerk.

-

Alexander, a few of his friends, and Aaron all move to the small bedroom. Something is being passed around. Multiple things. A flask that smells of burning that Aaron takes a swig of, and a blunt. John Laurens is laying on the bed with his legs hanging off of the edge. Alexander is already making out with some Asian chick. Aaron would be more inclined to do the same if it weren’t for the fact that he knew everybody here. Angelica was off of the table, _obviously_ , due to an _event_ that they don’t speak about, and he prefers not to kiss any of Alexander’s slimy friends. Instead, he’s sharing a blunt with Gilbert, who is complaining about his long distance relationship.

By this time Alexander is pleasantly buzzed both by the alcohol and the weed. He’d once gotten high before a job interview. Apparently, ‘ _oh my god, look at my hand, this could be an old man’s hand_ ’ is not an appropriate thing to say in front of a potential employer. Suffice to say he did not get the job. The point is that he loves weed, and he loves to smoke it. If weed were a person he’d have brought it home to meet his recently resurrected parents. If weed were manifested into a person he would have had its babies. 

“I need to piss,” He announces, though in the jumble of conversation nobody really hears. He actually thinks there’s a game of truth or dare going on. After dancing his way over a tangle of hands and legs, somehow, he finally stumbles out of that stuffy room and blows a piece of hair away from his face. His hands smooth over his shirt, which has become rumpled, and walks down the hallway.

Thankfully, Alexander knows this place even while he’s drunk. He goes to the bathroom with the lights off because there is serenity in pissing in the dark, enjoying the bliss in the silence besides the obvious noise of him and the muffled music, until someone opens the door. 

“What the fuck!” Alexander turns before he has really been able to stop the flow. It isn’t an on and off thing, okay, especially when he’s drunk. He fumbles and gets himself into his pants. “What the hell, man! What’s your problem!”

"Shit!" Thomas jumps and immediately looks away, trying to give some illusion of privacy. James had gone to mingle with people, so Thomas had been left alone again to fend for himself in this party. He would have gone with him if it meant he didn’t have to see Hamilton’s shrivelled cock.

Alexander recognises who Thomas is and scowls. “Oh, it’s _you_ . Damn, you are _really_ not making it easy to like you, huh? Whadda ya want?” He moves to the sink and washes his hands. “Ask my number?” Despite having had his dick out not a minute ago he seems pretty confident. He looks Thomas up and down. 

“Maybe I should ask for _your_ number, tiger. Or maybe there’s another set of digits you’d like?” He makes a leonine growling noise, grinning.

"Please, I'm way out of your league. Gotta be taller than five feet to ride this ride. You look like a wreck anyways, how am I supposed to get horny when you have that disgrace of a shirt." He scoffs. After giving a disgusted noise he motions for him to leave and steps into the bathroom. With a quick flick the dim light shines on them. The first thing that Thomas notices is how tiny the bathroom is which makes him that much more uncomfortable being so close to Alexander. He moves aside to press against the wall. 

“Woah,” Alexander laughs. He wipes his hands on his pants and stands straighter to make up for the difference. “Calm it, man. I’m just drunk. Jeeze. Worth a shot.”

Alexander continues to wipe his hands on his pants even though they must be dry by now.Maybe they’re just getting clammy. “I’m not that bad. I’m James’s friend, believe it or not, though he might just hang around me for Aaron.” Suddenly, his gaze grows sharp as if he had sobered up. “You were looking at him funny. Maybe you’re the creep. Not to be judgemental but you smell like you’ve put on two sprays of cologne too many.” 

Thomas grimaces and sighs. Did he really seem like a creep? The guy was hot, was he not supposed to stare?

Alexander moves away from that side of the bathroom and gestures. “Floor’s yours. And despite all those snide comments I don’t fucking mind you, and you look like you’re a loner anyway, which is surprising because you’re hot. No offence, don’t get all defensive. You can come hang out with us if you would like.”

Alexander continues to stick around like he expects for Thomas to get on with pissing while he’s here.

“And I’m five foot _seven_ , by the way.” After some thought Alexander puts in, “So is Aaron.”

Thomas blinks. Aaron. Was that his name? It was nicer than he thought. Sounds... sophisticated. That stranger _looks_ like an Aaron. He chews on the inside of his cheek before he realizes Hamilton was leaving. Thomas feels dread as he quickly went forward to stop him from going. "Wait," He calls out hesitantly, "The guy that was with you… Aaron?" 

Thomas pauses his next question, unsure if he really is going through with this, until he puffs a breath out. 

"Is he...straight?" Thomas felt like a moron. He could've just asked for the guys number, maybe text him some other night and hope to get laid. Then again, Hamilton was drunk, so he says, maybe he won't even bring the conversation up any other time. "And, I'm sorry, for bein' a dick. Parties just aren't my scenes. I don't wanna be here."

Alexander waits, and pokes his head back in, softened by his apology. “Aaron? Well. Um.” Alexander tosses his head back and looks at the ceiling, thinking hard. “Yeah. Well. He had a girlfriend but I’ve seen him grind against a guy at a club, so. You know. Fifty-fifty chance.”

"Thomas Jefferson, by the way. I don't think I introduced myself." Thomas stuck his hand out for him to shake, although he was still hesitant since he knew the peace between them probably wouldn't last long. Alexander seemed like a good guy-- he just expressed himself in a shitty way. 

Hamilton. shakes his hand heartily. “Alexander Hamilton,” He introduces. “You’re not so bad when you’re not a dickhead. Alright, how about... when you’re finished pissing, you come to that room and I’ll leave the door open. Pretend not to know Aaron. You’re pretty. He likes pretty people. You’ll be great. See you, man. Thomas, I mean.”

Thomas felt a little hopeful with what Alexander was telling him. Maybe there really wasn't anything horrible about Hamilton besides his sense of fashion. Thomas gave a simple nod, watching him go for a second. He steps out of the bathroom a moment later, knowing that he could hold his piss in for a little longer if it meant he could hit it off with... _Aaron_ at some point in the future.

He’s sure he could stay a little longer if it meant he could hit it off with Aaron. He wonders if Alexander was just pulling his leg and fucking around, since when he steps into the hallway all of the doors are closed. He frowns and tries to figure out what to do. It wasn't until James poked his head around the corridor that he felt relief flood him. 

"I've been lookin' for you. Why'd you disappear?" James asked curiously but Thomas simply shook his head, not having time to explain. He picks a door and hopes for the best. 

"Hey can you, uh, walk in here real quick?" Thomas asked nervously, not wanting to seem like a weirdo entering the room by himself. James gives him a look of confusion but does as he is told. James opens the door and raises an eyebrow, seeing the misty-esc room from the weed. He scans the room and lets his eyes settle on Alexander. 

"Hamilton, I didn't know you were at the party. I would've said hi earlier." He said in a regular greeting, lying smoothly, walking to the bed so he could have a conversation while Thomas trails along like everything was normal, and he had no ulterior motives here. Alexander, from over James’s shoulder, seems surprised that they had found them, and then appears to sheepishly remember what he was supposed to do to let his new friend know what room he was in. Thomas ignores him and scans the room, recognizing one or two people from some classes or other instances of embarrassment. More people than what Thomas had suspected know him here. Angelica calls a hello to him and Eliza does the same; John, Alexander and Hercules nod at him with varying amounts of enthusiasm. 

“Oh, _mon cher ami_ ! How haven’t I seen you yet?” Marquis asks in his French tongue. Aaron glances up from where he’s relighting the second blunt and then follows his line of sight. Thomas grins, and crawls into this makeshift nest, resting his head on Marquis’s lap. He gently pats his leg in a friendly way and sighs in content. _This_ was so much better than being in another room with strangers even if his legs were a little cramped.

“Hey, it’s Curly again,” Aaron smiles at him, but not welcomingly; kind of like it’s saying, don’t test your luck. He makes room for him where they’re sitting on the rug. There’s a beanbag chair that somebody has stolen from the living room and John has pushed all of the pillows off towards Marquis and him so they’ve created a little nest between the bed and the corner of the room. 

“You met Thomas?” Marquis asks him. Aaron passes the blunt and leans back against the beanbag, glancing between Lafayette and Thomas before seemingly losing interest. Thomas hopes that he doesn’t presume that they’re together.

“Just briefly. He met Hamilton.”

“Ah.” Marquis’s eyes light up in that way when it looks like he knows something that they don’t. 

Aaron takes the blunt and takes a drag. He releases the smoke silkily out through his mouth and passes it to Thomas. Their fingers touch. The sight of the smoke leaving Aaron had him aching for him to let it fall into his own mouth, like he had seen a shit ton of other couples do with weed. 

_Get it together, Thom._

"God, the other room was startin' to give me a headache. There was a couple grindin' their way to hell." He kids. He brings the blunt up to his lips and closes his eyes as he takes a tentative drag. Thomas feels himself slowly melt further into the lap of Marquis as he passes the blunt, slowly letting the smoke escape him like a faucet barely running. 

He opens his eyes and looks over at Aaron, deciding to test his luck and smiling at him sweetly. His hand stuck out as a greeting. 

"Sorry, I don't think we've been properly introduced. Thomas Jefferson, pleasure." He says and tilts his head, hoping that he looks as confident as he wants to. Usually he didn't get all too hung up with guys or girls he stared at, he can appreciate a nice face, but something about Aaron seemed intriguing. Probably how quiet and mysterious he was. Thomas let his eyes linger again on the guy briefly, enjoying the sight. He doesn’t miss the way Aaron looks at his mouth, and then his hands, and then his nose.

“Aaron Burr, charmed.” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks as if amused. Aaron's hands were small in his own, but also warm while his own were relatively cold. Marquis slaps both of their wrists and Thomas rolls his eyes. 

“So formal. Lighten up, my friends. We go big tonight.”

“I think you’ve gone as big as this night allows.” Aaron takes his phone and checks the time. Was he leaving soon? Thomas certainly hopes not.

“Rude,” Lafayette scoffs. Thomas slaps his thigh playfully, looking up at the other pretty man he was lounging on, who smiles down at him. “Oh, Thomas. You know that kid that was going to graduate fast? That was Aaron.” 

Thomas takes a moment to process this information. He knew that there was somebody in the university that was doing the fast track course-- and who had recently given up.

“That was you? I always wondered who it was. Impressive. Actually," He pauses and looks at the guy from head to toe again, "Out of all people you seem like the person to do it. Not in a bad way, you just seem a lot more put together than the rest of us." He shrugs. He wasn't trying to be a suck up, or flatter the guy, it was his opinion flat out. After another moment Thomas shook his head.

So much for mystery. Aaron leans back with the blunt and hums. He is undisturbed by the compliment. “Now you have to tell me something about yourself equally as embarrassing, I’m afraid.” 

His voice sounds smooth, kind of like some sort of hot chocolate you drink on winter days. That's the type of aura the guy gave off-- grey and wintery.

A lazy smile curled his lips. "No, I don't think I will." 

He wanted to look or seem just as intriguing as Aaron, make him wonder who he was and maybe stick in his head for a while. If anything, he wants to see if Aaron could be baited into talking more with him. If the guy couldn't hold onto a conversation longer, Thomas would get bored easily and it wouldn't be worth the work.

“I’m sure that’s not true. Don’t make me ask Lafayette. What majors are you doing?”

Thomas sighs, stretching a little and giving a quiet noise of thought. He tore his gaze away to simply take in his face as a whole. "I'm studyin' to be an architect. If all goes wrong, I can play the violin pretty decent so I could audition for an orchestra." He explains. Thomas really couldn't keep his eyes off of him. His eyes briefly flickered to his lips as he spoke, wondering if he would ever be able to feel them against his own. 

“Hm. I can play it better,” Lafayette grunts.

" _Cher_ , I think you've smoked too much. Get that head of yours outta the clouds." He teases Gilbert, chuckling and reaching up to playfully tap him on the temple. Thomas settles a little more comfortably in his lap so that his head is resting against his chest and glances up. Aaron was looking at him again. That man had one of the most intense gazes he had ever seen. It felt as if it were piercing right through him, and it had barely even grazed him; how had he not seen this guy before? Despite being caught, Aaron doesn’t look away. His eyes narrow in that content way a cat’s might, and only seem to look at him even closer.

Thomas looks down at his mouth. Aaron’s lips are chapped, maybe because of all of that university stress. He’s not trying to be at all subtle so maybe Aaron could take a hint. Lafayette is talking in the background, something about his girlfriend loving the way he plays, and Aaron’s gaze flickers as if he has remembered something. He moves his leg so that his calf was pressing along Thomas’s thigh in their little cramped corner. It’s a sign, Thomas assumes, that they should keep talking.

He hopes he could at least get his number, maybe he could even get laid or something.

No, he was probably wearing his rose-coloured glasses again. Aaron-- as charming and as mysterious he was-- seemed like the type to fuck around for thirty minutes, to see how far he could push it, before he slipped away.

“What about you?” He asks, still eager to know more. If he was around for only a little Thomas would still want to learn about him. It feels like an achievement: to know about someone like him.

“Law and political science.” Aaron opens his mouth to say more, maybe even something along the lines of what Thomas had said about a backup plan, but then thinks twice and just shrugs. He guesses that for a man like him failure was not an option even worth considering. Thomas found it interesting how a guy so quiet would be into politics of all subjects. He could see the guy doing big things. It was a little rough but really he was still trying to piece Aaron together into what type of person he was. 

The blunt does eventually burn out. Aaron decides to leave. “Thanks for getting high with me,” He says to both of them, making eye contact with Thomas. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Mm.” Marquis waves a dismissive hand. 

Internally, Thomas scoffs. _He_ didn't want to be there either but he stuck around because he knew better. Guess he wasn't getting laid with this gorgeous guy. Maybe he would take Alexander up on that offer from before. 

_Over my dead body._

"It was nice meetin' you, Aaron." He gave a half-assed salute, and a cocky smile, despite his bitter jealousy over the fact that Aaron could just slip away. He shifts around to sit up, his hair getting in his face until he runs a hand through it to tame it. Now that he was leaving maybe he didn't have to lay so he wouldn't feel so cramped. "Get home safe, dude." 

Aaron stands and carefully steps over the two, retrieving his shoes and going.

-

It wasn’t as if Aaron was caught up on Thomas Jefferson. Not to sound conceited but he was a bit hard to impress, really. But this guy _was_ quite handsome. Perfect nose. Big hands. Kind of smelt good, too. Was that cologne?

And he had not missed the way Thomas had looked at him. He wasn’t even trying to be smooth, at least by his standards. That was alright. He was kind of into it. Thomas had high cheekbones and a straight nose, and his legs were _insane._ Who even has legs that long ?He is exactly the kind of person Burr would usually like to sleep with. And he would have tried bedding him if not for all of the deterrents, such as his apparent relationship with the infamously promiscuous Lafayette and the reaction he would have gotten from Alexander, had he tried. For Aaron it had been a one time conversation. He’s not met Thomas before now and probably wouldn't again.

Burr smiles to himself mysteriously as he gets into Alexander’s cheap car. Hamilton will probably sleep over, and will be too drunk to remember, and Aaron will tell him that he let him take his ride. 

The house is still booming with tacky electric pop, and he is thankful to slam the car door shut on it all.


	2. Hello, Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weather alert: hurricane jamilton is coming. Not the good kind either

The next morning, Alexander asks Aaron for his car back. He is painfully, obviously hungover-- he has five typos in his text and absolutely no commas. It hardly helps that he has done the typical millennial thing and turned off his auto correct, making his voice come across as very improper and unprofessional. Aaron suggests meeting for coffee while they’re at it after cringing on his behalf. 

Alexander manages to smile his smile even as he’s being herded impatiently out of the apartment he crashed at, where the party had been held.

“Calm it, man!” He fumes when his shirt is thrown at him. Before he dresses, he texts the group chat that has his friends in it, and the recently added Thomas Jefferson. Between stepping precariously between Mountain Dew vodka cocktail stains on the carpet and complaining under his breath about his terrible headache, his writing is worse than ever.

[ alexyall: meeting at coff place, gettn ovr hngovr, in?

Lafayette: yes!!!

johnnyboy: u buyin?

J.Madison: Thomas?]

The night before, James had given Thomas a _look_ and had shaken his head from across the party in a signal he had come to call the dad face: _you are on your own._ He had told him he'd see him tomorrow with a face expressing disapproval. Thomas didn’t waste any time-- he found a girl in the moist air of the party crowd and focused his entire attention on his target, instead of having to linger on the idea of Aaron’s nice nose, and his dark, mysterious eyes. Not everybody had their life figured out like James. He loved the guy, but if it came between dealing with his jealousy head on and avoiding it, he would rather do the latter, even if it put a bit of a wedge between them.

The girl was really pretty: long, fake lashes, tan skin, straight hair-- but of course, this was only the first part of the criteria. Most importantly, she is a good distraction. The night comes in hazy, dizzying moments, and if anything was worth remembering it was only because of the physical reminders it had left on them: she scratched long, raised lines down his back, and he probably bruised her thighs. Thomas was not the type of person to let any hook ups stay the night, but the same activities that knocked his lamp over and woke his neighbours had drained him, and in the early morning he found that he was far too lethargic to tell her to fuck off right after waking up.

His phone buzzes with several messages. Thomas groans, a headache threatening to set alight right behind his right temple. The phone, which is on his bedside table, buzzes again. The sound is harshened and serrated because it’s resting on thick, hollow wood. Untangling himself from the stranger he had brought back to his apartment, he reached for it so that he could mute the chat and get back to sleep. He isn’t surprised by the identities of the people who’ve chosen to rouse him from an otherwise fulfilling sleep. He reads from the top down and reaches the easy conclusion of not going until he sees that James is thinking about going too.

[ TPRJ: You're lucky I'm in the mood for a chocolate croissant, Madison.]

It takes an argument ("Okay, Jenna, now would be a great time to leave. I don't want you here." "My name is Emma!") and a wise outfit choice to properly prepare himself for today. Yes, he could be doing better things than hanging out with these people, like _sleeping_ , but looking ten times better than the rest of these idiots _and_ watching them struggle with a headache was good enough incentive on its own to leave his warm bed, get dressed, and make the chilly walk to his motorbike.

-

There’s a reason that Aaron had left that godforsaken group chat: he would not have come if he’d known there’d be four other people and counting when he got there. The black-eyed man sits and watches his companions with one leg crossed over the other, giving the impression that he had somewhere to be. When he had asked Alexander _why_ they were sitting outside in the brisk, cold air, his friend had merrily informed him that the unsympathetic wind eased his headache and woke him up. 

Absolute bullshit, by the way. Aaron grumpily shifts in his seat and turns his scrutinising glare to the road.

He had hardly drunk that much last night but at the sight of Laurens and Hamilton’s cheerful, tired faces breaking into painful grimaces at the distant roar of a motorbike Burr has seemed to have some kind of delayed hangover, drunk off of this much social interaction this early in the morning. Even _Madison_ is here, getting out of his expensive Mercedes. He thought he’d be just sitting with Alexander, but he really did invite everybody.

The motorbike comes into view and Aaron follows with it his eyes irritably. He taps the plastic top of his coffee. He had gotten it takeaway, trying to send a subtle hint, but Alexander was as observational as a displaced traffic cone when he was distracted. The motorbike pulls into the cafe parking lot, much to the distaste of the boys. It’s made all of them whinge. Thanks a lot, motorbike guy. 

The man gets off of his bike. Aaron takes his chin off of his hand when he takes off his helmet. Curly— _Thomas_ — driving a motorcycle? Is this man out of a movie or something? Seriously, he looks like he’s prepared to wait outside Aaron’s apartment with a boombox, or give a pretty but somehow generically unappealing girl a bouquet of roses with an embarrassed tip of his chin.

"Good mornin', sunshine! Y'all look like absolute shit." Since they are all outside, Thomas can confront them as he takes his helmet off and puts it carelessly in the back box. The piercing quality of his nasal voice makes some boys grimace.

Everybody replies in grumbles, in some variation of ‘hello, Thomas’, so Aaron joins in as well. Thomas snorts meanly, pushing his glasses down a little to scan the small group as he approaches them. He takes a double take when he sees Aaron-- but only asks how Madison is before he goes to order his coffee.

“How have I never met that guy before?” Aaron asks Alexander in a low voice. He receives a funny look. 

“Dude, I am literally the only person you talked to at all, and I had to physically shake you away from your textbooks for a ‘hello’.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, embarrassed. He takes a sip from his coffee and clears his throat. “I have to leave pretty early. I have to prepare for a morning class.”

Unbeknownst to them, Madison was listening into the conversation. He shakes his head at Alexander’s reasoning. He knows what it’s like doing the fast track. He had tried with a vengeance, and it had sent him into hospital in spiteful retribution, utilizing its relentless online classes and credit out of classes criteria without mercy.

"You should stick around a little longer." Madison chimes, interrupting their exclusive conversation. He sips his coffee but not before giving a quiet cough. He was curious to know what Aaron was thinking, since he asked about Thomas. The curiosity vanished when his friend sat back down next to him with a cup of tea and a muffin.

The taller of the two Virginians puts the muffin in front of James. “I know what you’re like,” Thomas scoffs, but fondly. “Eat more than just your caffeine.”

"Aaron's about to leave." James hums, wondering if Thomas cared at all. He’s his best friend-- but he’s also Burr’s friend, too.

“I have a class,” Aaron repeats a little indignantly, annoyed that nobody was listening to him. He knows exactly what Madison is trying to do. It was not unlike him to play instigator.

Thomas gave a small nod, looking at Aaron with a small smile on his face. 

"Not gonna stick 'round for the shit show?" He asks. He leans forward across the table towards him. He could take a bite of his croissant, but at the risk of making a fool of himself in front of Aaron? No chance.

“I have a class,” Aaron repeats again, this time softer. He’d been weary because everybody here had been hungover, but Thomas and James are a refreshing change even if Madison was clearly stirring up an interaction between them (insufferable, insufferable, insufferable. He _hates_ people meddling in his business.) But, interested in his reaction, Aaron slips his gaze to Thomas. “Were you planning on starting things?” 

He likes this man. All cocky. Not cocky like Alexander. Scary cocky. Motorbikes. Leather pants. 

“Not unless you were here to--”

“I have a class,” Aaron cuts in for the last time, sharper, since he had checked his watch and was displeased with the lateness of the morning. “Alexander, I’ve got to go.” He elbows him hard in the arm. “Lend me your car.”

“Fuck! For real? Take it.” Alexander gives him his keys in an unorganised flurry of exasperation. He knew what it was like having a morning class. Aaron takes them and stands up with his coffee in his hand. 

“See you, everyone.” Everybody waves or looks at him. He might have said goodbye again specifically to Thomas, but it’s the second day Aaron’s even known the guy, and personalised farewells just feel too intimate.

“So.” Alexander says once he’s gone. Both Virginians raise their heads at the accusatory syllable, eyes narrowing.

Suddenly Alexander looks quite sober, through no means of foul play; the miracle of gossip has brought him back to life. He looks at Thomas over the steam of his coffee. “You wanna know something funny that I just thought about right now that I _might_ have forgotten before? Aaron doesn’t date boys.”

Thomas straightens up. His cheeks flush. Had he been tricked? “You said he was gay!”

“He’s definitely gay,” John says, smug at knowing something that Alexander doesn’t. “Saw him grindin’ ‘gainst this guy at a club.”

“I _know_ , dumbass. I’m his best friend. He doesn’t date _anyone.”_

Thomas allows this information to settle fully, and then wilts a little, his hopes crushed. He hadn’t even realised he _wanted_ that with anybody until it was mentioned. He supposes that it was comforting to know that the opportunity was there-- that even if you never wanted it, if you one day changed your mind, that door would still be open.

It wasn’t like him, though, to let little gnats like Hamilton break down his confidence. He turns his head, looking at his motorbike, and then smiles much to Alexander’s distaste. “I’m not just _anyone_.”

He notes, with satisfaction, that Alexander has pulled himself upright. His shoulders are pushed back and his face has reddened a little at the challenge that Thomas has put between them, like he had strung it up, hook line and sinker. “Your ego is incredible.”  
  
“It just seems that way because I have standards, and expectations.”

“Excuse me!”  
  
“I bet that you’re just pissy because I think I’m better than you,” Thomas huffs. “And I have the confidence to back myself without needing anyone’s approval--”

“Bet you fifty that he doesn’t date boys. Bet you fifty he won’t date _you_.”

James lifts his hands and shakes his head, switching to a diplomat to defend his friend. "Seriously, Hamilton? What are you, twelve? Thomas would never--”

Thomas sneers. "You're incredibly cocky for a guy that called one of the only two people sober a _boy_." 

Thomas stuck his hand out. Oh, he knew exactly what he was getting into. Not only would he gain fifty bucks, but he'd have Aaron as a notch on his bedpost. 

"You are _not_ bettin' on this." James grasped a little desperately, seriously concerned. For whom, Thomas could not be bothered to find out, and rolls his eyes. 

"Just to get this straight, if I win I get fifty bucks. If you win..." Thomas thinks. What would a bastard who dresses himself like he came out of the reject dumpster outside of a thrift store want? "I'll pay for your tuition a whole year." 

Maybe that would be good enough. Plus, it wasn't his own money _really_. His dad would hand it over like a penny (though that might be the adrenaline of the argument talking). James smacked his hand away before they could shake on it. 

"Thomas, you need to think about what you're really doin'. This isn't a small thing-- it's a _person_." 

Thomas shushed his friend, and his voice of reason. James burnt with the humiliation of being disregarded in such a patronising manner and stops trying. His muffin goes untouched.

"Dude, it's not that deep." He stuck his hand out again, more stubborn this time. "We gotta deal or what?"

“Deal,” Hamilton says, not really thinking. He shakes Jefferson’s hand. The rest of them watch on as if to testify as witnesses before resuming their own conversations like nothing had really occurred.

-

In the late afternoon of Sunday, two days after that party, the sky was beginning to become a bruised purple. The clouds rolled lazily through the sky like patient bulldozers ploughing a midnight field. Distantly, thunder threatened the quiet of the library, where the most resilient students studied, and the most despairing anguished over forgotten theses.

There is an insanity in the sheer number of books all over the place. It would be very easy to lose your mind here. A dark-eyed man checks his watch. It is six o’ clock, which means that Aaron has been here for four hours, now.

His phone vibrates. He was slow to pick it up, since he could see it was only Hamilton who messaged him.

[mine tonight?]

[I can’t, sorry]

[please?]

[Studying.]

[what if I told you somebody terrible is heading over there right now]

Thomas takes off his helmet and shakes his head, fussing about his hair and brushing out his curls. He had been given some very crucial information from his trusted confident Lafayette, who was infamously terrible at keeping secrets. He had been there when the deal was struck between himself and Alexander and was either on both of their sides or purposefully stirring the pot.

Thomas jogs up the steps partly to get out of the light, sprinkling rain, but also because he was very eager to see if Aaron was here. Little Burr, Lafayette had called him.

Aaron Burr. Thomas smiles to himself and walks with a slight swagger in his step once he has stepped through the automatic doors.

It took only a moment to see Aaron. It was a lot easier than he thought it would be. Aaron seemed like the type to hide in corners but he was sitting right out in the foyer surrounded by his textbooks. Of course, he wouldn’t approach him immediately. He wasn’t stupid, and this wasn’t his first rodeo, though he was not as familiar with being the reacher rather than the settler.

Instead, Thomas walks casually to a row of shelves to Aaron’s right. He was not being totally dishonest in coming here-- he actually also wanted to check out a book that was a part of the series that he had been reading. As if thinking about it would make it appear _and_ alleviate his guilt simultaneously, Thomas reaches out and takes one of the books, hardly even reading the cover. It was non-fiction, all of these ones, and he puts it back, uninterested.

Abandoning the premise of books Thomas looks out from behind the shelf he had hidden behind, which was only several feet away from Aaron, who faced it. He circles the shelf so that his back was facing Aaron, still pretending to look at books. He picked up a random historian’s account on the Great Depression and sways a little from side to side. Perhaps it was vain but he wanted to draw his attention rather than be the one to initiate a conversation. 

Aaron glances up at the flicker of movement in front of him. He thinks nothing of it. Even if it was somebody he knew, the chances were that he had no interest in being interrupted. However, only one person Aaron knows on this campus has legs that long. Whilst Thomas is still turned away, he allows his eyes to trail down from his broad shoulders to the square of his back and then lower still.

He is in no rush to say something. Whilst he has the privacy to do so, Aaron takes his time in fully appreciating the shape of Thomas’s body. Have they always been at the same place so often, and he has just never noticed it? Slowly, he takes one earbud out of his ear and clears his throat, lifting a finger from his book in acknowledgement when Thomas turns around.

“Let me guess. Last minute essay?”

Thomas has to subdue his shit-eating grin and gives a soft laugh, pretending that he hadn’t seen Aaron. “No, no. I’m, uh, here to check out a book. I think they have it around here somewhere,” A strange gesture, a flail of his hand, _come on, Thomas._ “I wanted to see what other book I could get on the way out.”

Aaron hums thoughtfully. He takes out his other earbud too and piles the wire in a heap on the desk. If Thomas were anybody else (ahem, _Alexander_ ) then he would be annoyed about being interrupted. With him, though, it’s different _._ “I could help you find it, if you need.”

He stretches one leg underneath the table and pushes out the chair opposite of him so that Thomas could sit. 

“You studyin’? I don’t wanna impose.” Thomas walks forward with his hands in his pockets as if he hadn’t meant to impose all this time. As if he hadn’t come here with the sole purpose of imposing. Ignoring his guilt, he sits. “It’s fiction.”

“The library on the west of campus is probably best for that.” Nearly everything here was textbooks or manuscripts. It gave him a headache just thinking about it. After a moment of thought Aaron checks his phone for the time. “No, you’re fine. I’ve been here far too long. Once you’ve stayed here for more than two hours it starts feeling like an alternate reality. Are you staying long?”

"Uhh, well I actually wouldn't mind that. I wasn't plannin' on stickin' 'round _too_ long. But I'm sure I can stay. I don't have a lot to do." He shrugged, pushing some hair out of his face and setting his head on his fist. As he leans forward, his jacket zipper hits the edge of the table, and the metallic click draws both of their attention. Embarrassed, he smooths down the fabric.

“Do you come here often?” How did he come to the library looking like _that_? Aaron casts a hand across his buzzed head self-consciously, even though he’s hardly lived a self-conscious moment in his life. Actually, he retracts the self-conscious thing. He’s just jittery because this analysis is due in two weeks and he’s had too many coffees today.

Thomas raises his eyebrows. "Well, I don't, no. Not unless I need somethin'. As much as I love running into cute college kids like you, I don't really like seein' other college students break down every five minutes.”  
  
His hands fall to the table and he twists the ring he had on, focusing on the way it reflected the blonde library lights. It was on the same finger as Aaron’s ring. His hand rested just opposite on the desk. Thomas would never admit it but he was a little anxious that he would be brushed off or found out. Aaron had this knowing look about him that made him question himself. But Aaron doesn’t roll his eyes. In fact, he smiles slightly at the compliment and taps his pen on his book as the silence stretches between them.

"You seem like the type to be productive here. Do you come here often? Maybe I could join you, I know a good spot where we could get a snack afterwards. Cute café that's ten minutes away. They have good pastries and usually stay open until ass o'clock.” Thomas tries.

He wanted to make Aaron laugh, or smile, or something that gave a signal he was slowly chipping away at this steely exterior the guy had on. Despite Thomas usually being a good judge of character (it was a fifty-fifty success rate, admittedly), it was hard to piece him together. 

Aaron eyes him curiously. “Next time bring your books. We can have a whole study thing.”

Thomas hoped he wasn't coming off as too forward. He wanted to make it seem as if he was asking him out on a date but not exactly. He wanted to seem just as mysterious, as put together, as patient and as charming.

“Are you free now?” Aaron asks suddenly. His hands are moving to pack up his books methodically, deconstructing the neat system he has in place. “If I spend another minute here I might have permanent head trauma. I don’t want you to witness another breakdown.”

“ _Yes_ \-- yes.”

Aaron gathers his things and his laptop into his shoulder back and checks beneath the table to make sure he hasn’t lost anything. As they leave he says goodbye to the librarian. “You come from the south?” Aaron asks when they walk into the biting night. It smells like it has rained, or it’s going to rain, and the moon has faded in the sky already. “You have that accent. Alabama?”

Thomas laughed and shook his head. "Only a little bit insultin'. You're a little too south. James and I are from Virginia. Born 'n raised." It had stopped raining just briefly. Pools of black water spotted the rough bitumen, looking like excess cutoffs from the sky.

"So, did you have a place in mind you wanted to go? I could meet you there orrr, I have a spare helmet if you want a ride." He smiled, jutting his thumb in the direction of his motorcycle. 

“Tempting, but you’d have to drive me back so I can get my car.” Aaron nods towards the Volkswagen in the parking lot. “You mentioned that cafe earlier. If it’s closed, there’s a diner down near the stoplights off the main street? You can follow me.”

Thomas agrees and walks to his bike. He starts it up, relishing the thrum of it, and follows Aaron after he’s drawn out of the parking lot.

The trip is less than five minutes. As he dismounts his bike and takes off his helmet Thomas feels a fat raindrop land on the back of his neck. Unpleasantly, it slips beneath his jacket and wets the fabric of his cotton shirt. A couple of parking lots to the left there is the sound of keys and the decisive thunk of a car being locked. Since there are no cars between them Thomas gestures to the vehicle and scrunches his nose.

"I like it. It's cute.”

“Interesting word choice.”

Aaron makes a show of looking Thomas’s bike over. “Cute,” He echoes back to him, but he does it with a twitch of a smile. “Come on. I think it’s raining.”

Mainly, Burr just wants coffee. He’d been staring at the tiny print of his textbooks for the entire evening but if a pick-me-up came in the form of a hot guy with a motorbike and perfect teeth, well. He wasn’t opposed to that, either.

And Thomas is just loud enough to keep Aaron awake. 

Within the minute it is raining hard. The diner is not very busy, even though it was just after peak hour. It had the unfortunate placement right next to an intersection which meant that the cars roar past in an unpleasant faint buzz. There’s music and the lights are dim and flickering but that’s alright. Aaron dismisses it generously as part of the charming atmosphere.

Coffee may turn into dinner. Aaron thinks about his poor itinerary; two cup noodles, some soft lemons and a litre of milk that has begun to smell, while Thomas thinks about the groceries he has yet to buy. Once Aaron has decided what he wants he puts the worn menu pamphlet down and looks between Thomas and the rain outside. If he squints, the glares from the car lights blur into bars of red and white.

“So, architecture? What’s that like? Sounds hot.”

"I don't think I've heard anyone call it hot, but, it's interestin'. We usually have a studio the teacher has us meet at. It's kinda a collaborative thing most of the time. I don't hate the homework, I'd like to think my designs are relatively original, yada yada.” Thomas smiles and shrugs as he finally sees the food that he’s set on tasting.

"I really wanna try that chicken wrap. It looks good,” He murmurs to himself and then sets the menu down, “But, what about you? Tell me all the sexy things about law and politics." He joked right back, eyebrow wiggling playfully and chuckling.

“Women in my class would love you. Hardly anybody is turned on by law.”

"Can't say that seems appealin'. Not interested in women too much." He said, hoping it was clear that he wasn't straight. Thomas wasn't sure exactly what he was, he had been leaning toward bisexual but he was lazy to completely find out. All he really knew was when it came to being laid it didn't matter as long as they both got satisfied. The pause between them extends into a lull.

“Well, there's always the men,” Aaron says, unsmiling, but underneath the table the tips of their shoes touch. “I don’t suggest you get married to Alexander, though.”

"I'm actually impressed you can handle yourself around him. He seems like a great guy but I think I would isolate myself for eight thousand years to recharge from being around him so much." 

“It takes some work. I think I’m approaching some sixth sense for tuning in but not really, or at least blocking him out. He says he’s my best friend.” He speaks harshly but Aaron is only smiling.

Aaron looks at him for a long second. Thomas’s eyes are like the bed of a lake, wet and swampy. The kind of marsh you want to dig your hands into just to feel the dirt clinging between your fingers. Not that Aaron wants to gouge his eyes out. He isn’t able to think about it anymore because Thomas has flicked his gaze back to him, and in response Aaron has flickered back to watching the road. For a second he had been so completely lost in observing him that he had forgotten the importance of what he said. The conversation falls quiet for only a second before Aaron begins to speak again. He doesn’t go too in depth. He describes Hamilton’s endless argumentative chatter as politely as possible. When the waitress comes by he stops and orders for himself before letting Thomas do the same. 

Aaron would not pin himself as a romantic. After all, his relationship with his girlfriend had dissolved because of just that, and the long distance. He is more of the kind of guy to fuck around and then get right back to studying. And maybe that’s what he would have done now. It’s what he _should_ have done. But he has more time on his hands and it’s embarrassing but Aaron likes playing this game. Seeing where it goes. 

Their food comes; Aaron looks at Thomas while he is distracted. Thomas seemed repulsed by the very idea of Alexander, but he can’t help but doubt himself-- he wonders if he would be willing to hook both of them up and gives a weak “he’s not that bad.”

"Honestly I can't really find myself gettin' all too involved with someone.” He was being honest. Thomas loved love, the smiles and the kisses that were reserved for one person. But lately? Lately he couldn't find the right person to do any of that with. “I _like_ the liberty of sleepin' with people or not worryin' if you've had enough attention from… from anyone." 

“Really? Sounds like the dream.”

Maybe this was a bad idea. James was probably right. The bet should be called off.

Thomas wanted nothing but to listen in on Aaron’s thoughts, wondering if he was also thinking about this entire thing. If it was a bad idea after all. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this. For all Thomas knew he was being played as well. 

"Oh, I actually wanted to ask you somethin'." He cut the silence. Aaron had just pierced the crust of his pie with the prongs of his fork. Thomas watches as he puts the utensil down and leans backwards to show that he’s listening. It gives him confidence.

“Of course. Go ahead.”

"I like talkin' with you, and I hope it isn't too forward of me to ask for your number." 

Thomas picks at his chicken wrap, grabbing a loose bit of lettuce and popping it into his mouth. _Keep it calm, Thomas, don’t fuck it up._ God, please don’t embarrass him and let this man reject him. He’s not sure how he would even handle it. When he catches a short glimpse of Aaron he notices that he’s smiling with a nonchalance about him, as if Thomas had just asked about the weather.

“Not forward at all.”  
  
Thomas takes his phone out and unlocks it. He pushes it face up across the table for Aaron to add his details. When he gets it back he reads the contact indiscreetly and is a little disappointed to see that his friend had only put in the name _A. Burr._

Not an emoji? A first name? Not promising at all.

“I was going to put a heart, but I don’t often give into temptation,” Aaron says after a skip. Thomas laughs, embarrassed; his distress must have been visible on his face. His cheeks have heated, now, and it is so rarely that he’s undone like this, unable to control where his eyes rest-- on his thick eyelashes, on his nose, on his lips, _fuck._ He’s so screwed.

Realising his own mistake Thomas looks up with guilty speed. Aaron is looking back at him in a way that makes the skin of his arms break out in goosebumps. What was he thinking? It felt impossible to tell.

"Well, I _love_ the touch of personality you added. It’s kinda hot. Definitely gonna feel some way when your name is on my screen." He joked weakly as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. Thomas waved his own worries away. It was the second day… third day? He had lost track of time. The point is, he barely knew the guy. Aaron was probably just cautious about what he was doing.

He has to be cool. Go a couple days without calling. Make Aaron want him. For some reason, Thomas felt as if that wouldn’t work with this guy.

-

Once they’ve finished their dinners Aaron stands with Jefferson outside of the diner beneath the short length of tin roof that offers them the only shelter they have from the rain. Things have suddenly moved very fast between them, what with the number, and lunch. Aaron _knows_ this, and he should stop it. He’s not that easy. But being wanted? Addictive.

All of this, balancing on an _if._ If Aaron even wants Thomas. And if Thomas wants him at all. 

He wonders if Thomas smokes. He wonders if he would mind if he did when it would look so hot. Aaron shifts his weight to his left foot and considers the quiet between them. He is the first to break the silence.

“Your ass is going to get so wet.”

Thomas barks out a loud laugh that makes Aaron jump. They both look at his motorbike, which has a puddle on the seat. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m probably gonna get sick.”

Aaron glances sideways at him. “I’ll see you around?”  
  
“... Yeah.”

Thomas watches him get into his car and drive away, safely out of the rain. He sighs. What the hell could he even call this? It wasn’t a date, clearly, if his name was only _A. Burr_ on his phone. He would like to think they weren’t exactly friends. He had almost kissed his cheek before he went-- and didn’t even try and bother. Remembering the way Aaron had smiled at him when they were eating dinner made the tips of his ears tingle with heat. It had been breathtaking, in the least cliche way possible. Aaron didn’t smile an awful lot and when he did, it stopped the entire show.

Thomas hated driving in the rain. It was one of the other reasons why people had accidents on motorcycles, yet here he was. A complete moron, pining over a new guy he's meeting and doing stupid things. Thomas has to take his jacket off and wipe his seat so he could sit down and rev his bike up. He's definitely fucked, either because of this boy, or because of the cold he’s going to catch. Even though as he gets home he practically bolts for his shower he could feel the small itch in the back of his throat. It isn't until he's laying in bed, scrolling through twitter that he gets a notification for a friend request from Aaron Burr on facebook. It was cute that Aaron was still thinking of him.

Thomas clicked on the notification and then on his profile, curious as to what he had on there. He looked at some of the pictures. There were very few. One with him and a dark woman, and one with Alexander. After five minutes he presses the 'accept' button. 


End file.
